


Latchkey

by millain123



Category: Nothing Much to Do, latchkey
Genre: F/F, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millain123/pseuds/millain123
Summary: Hi, this an original work that I wrote, and I own all the characters."Um... I don't really know where I should begin. Robin Marie Simms was, is my best friend. She is the cleverest girl I ever met and the only one who I knew that could tie cherry stems with her tongue. I don't really suppose that was the biggest feat, but it was amazing. To me, it was amazing. She used to say that caring about us, me, was the bravest thing she'd ever do. And I um I guess she was right. Because what could be braver than trusting... especially trusting someone like me. I mean, have you met me? I’m a complete disaster. But unlike me, she trusted with the full of her heart. I wish I could say that I did. And even in..., she trusted everybody more. I guess that's what made her braver than me, hell braver than any of us. Robin Marie, if you can hear me, I guess than; first, you were right ghosts are real, and second... I'm sorry. I know you would tell me that I ain't got nothing to be sorry for, but I am. I'm sorry that you didn't get to see the world that you never got to pet a chinchilla. And most of all. I'm sorry that this is how it ends,"Robin Marie is dead. A car crash. Her best friend Laura has the pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HI again this is a F/F story with a lot of angst and original characters

"Um... I don't really know where I should begin. Robin Marie Simms was, is my best friend. She is the cleverest girl I ever met and the only one who I knew that could tie cherry stems with her tongue. I don't really suppose that was the biggest feat, but it was amazing. To me, it was amazing. She used to say that caring about us, me, was the bravest thing she'd ever do. And I um I guess she was right. Because what could be braver than trusting... especially trusting someone like me. I mean, have you met me? I’m a complete disaster. But unlike me, she trusted with the full of her heart. I wish I could say that I did. And even in..., she trusted everybody more. I guess that's what made her braver than me, hell braver than any of us. Robin Marie, if you can hear me, I guess than; first, you were right ghosts are real, and second... I'm sorry. I know you would tell me that I ain't got nothing to be sorry for, but I am. I'm sorry that you didn't get to see the world that you never got to pet a chinchilla. And most of all. I'm sorry that this is how it ends," The words drifted out of my mouth like a raft at sea. Half of my gaze was misty, but the tears didn't fall. I knew they would but not yet, not where everyone was watching.   
Staring up at the sky, still gray and stormy, I let out a shaky breath. Good weather for a funeral. You would have liked it, I mean if you actually preferred the rain. Looking down, I saw mom, her hand raised to beckon me down from the small stage, but my knees and limbs were locked, holding me under the watchful gaze of the dead.

Someone was clapping. Looking over, I saw Quinn, his hair finally presentable, slapping his hands together as his own puffy red eyes bored into mine. An uncle of yours, I think his name was John began clapping too. The cacophony was chaotic, loud, and finally gave my legs the ability to move, the short heels I wore clicking on the wood. AS I expected, the world seemed to shiver and shake; each step was racking my body with shivers. The cold seeped into my bones. Each word the flashed through my pulling my heart more profound and deeper into my chest.   
My arms were still frozen by my sides. I sat down next to Mom, her dark eyes staring straight ahead. They were glassy and unfocused like someone lost in a daze. I didn't try to wake her from it, as I knew that maybe someday in the future I'd have to deal with it to. Looking across the rows of figures all clothed in black, I spied someone staring right back at me. Quinn. His gaze didn't make me feel uncomfortable like most boys gazes did. No, I knew that he knew that if he were ever to touch me, your ghost would come and kick him in the balls. It felt like a blanket, coating me in cotton and wool, blocking out the cold March air. 

Quinn mouthed the word 'are you okay,' and something compelled me to be honest. ‘No’ my chapped lips parted to give him that small message, watching his eyes steel over and his jaw tighten. I could see the pain on his face; after all, he was the love of her life. The one person that maybe just maybe knew who she was. Not the girl with more freckles than stars in the sky (though you were pretty proud of them weren’t you). The girl who listened to music whenever she could and saw the world like each day was a new adventure.   
He nodded sharply, his dark hair bouncing under the strain of the gel that I’m sure his sister made him use. She was always about appearances, even when something like this happened. No, scratch that, especially when something like this happened. I mean, they couldn’t fall apart, not here, not now. It wouldn’t look right. I may have nodded, my own sharp features moving smoothly. This isn’t the time to cry. 

The words of your mother felt like acid to my ears. Her nasally and high pitched voice sounded like something out of an old Disney cartoon, not something that you’d find in the real world. The sorrow in her voice was fake, if you looked close enough you could see it in her eyes but she was good. A good actor. Not a good mother. But yes she was a good actor. Her green eyes caught mine as her speech paused. It was like we found ourselves in a moment, like a standoff in an old western. She looked away first. A small smile rose on my lips, Laura 1 Daisey zilch. Her speech said all the right things that It needed to. Talking about how you will be missed and how we will never forget you. The pit in my stomach grew more prominent. By the time she was down, I felt like if I tried to walk, my body would just fall to the grass. 

Other people gave speeches… Quinn’s was… sweet if I sweet meant absolutely impossible to fathom. He was trying not to cry, but he was always bad at that, and even a blind person could see the tears in his eyes. He really loved you. I guess we both did. 

“I know that Robin is looking down at us and smiling because she would want us to be strong. And I believe that we need to be strong...for her,” Yeah, strong. I mean if you’re up there where ever up there is, I think you know that sometimes being healthy isn’t an option. The rain had started, small tears from the sky poking at our faces. God… I miss you. I really miss you.  
There were sunflowers y’ know. I made sure of it. Nobody knew why I would’ve thought you’d at least tell someone what your favorite flower was. All pretty and yellow. There were going to be thrown out after, I’m sure of it. But for right now, they were good and they were something real. Something that didn’t feel fake and sugarcoated. Those sunflowers were raw, they hurt me more than anything but they were real. We all stood in a line, waiting for our chance to say goodbye. Quinn w first, leading the pack before ducking away, running off to do god knows what.   
So as we dropped those raw flowers on your wooden casket, I felt like I got one last message from you. They weren’t words or anything that could be spoken out loud. It was a warm smile, a little bit sad but warm. It was your smile. One tear slipped out of my eye, splashing onto the wood and the flowers. No more came out, I wanted to cry. Oh god, I wanted to, but I didn’t.   
This wasn’t the right time to be going off on my own I know that. But I needed some quiet. The rain had subsided to a drizzle and provided some lovely chatter as I untangled my earbuds, their grey wires giving something for my hands to do while I was struggling to remember if I left my phone in the house. I stopped fiddling with the damn headphones when I heard a sigh on the other side of the tree. 

“Goddamint,” The familiar voice swore as I walked around the tree to face Quinn.

“Need a light?” I asked cocking my head towards his un-lit cig. Hui’s hand clutched his chest, not really expecting anyone to be out here.

“Um… yeah, I mean if you wouldn’t mind,” I was already getting out my lighter, tossing it to him softly. He mumbled thanks before lighting it, the flame contrasted against the cold grey of the sky. Throwing it back to me, he stuck the now lit cig between his lips and breathed in.

“I thought you quit,” I said pocketing the lighter. I didn’t expect the sour laughter that left his throat but when I looked back up at him, he was smiling. Not at me, but off into the distance like someone reliving an old memory.

“I mean so did I. But desperate times right?” 

“Yeah, desperate times,” I answered him looking for something in his face, I don’t know what I was looking for, but I’m sure it was there.

“I enjoyed your speech. I mean not really enjoyed it since it was about your dead best friend but it was well written. I surprised more people didn’t break down,” He said putting the cigarette back in his mouth.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed its formatting,” I sighed staring down at the earth. I thought maybe that the ground would show me an answer to all my problems. Or perhaps it would just swallow me up. Both would work in this situation. But all it showed me was dirt. The same dirt we just buried you in. I laughed, as he looked wondering what the hell could be so funny

“God Laura, what are we going to do now?” the truth is I didn’t have a clue. I don’t what I am supposed to do now that you’re gone. I looked up at Quinn finding his eyes red and puffy. I held out my hand, maybe to comfort him but I dropped it and sat on the wet ground. It’s wasn’t any warmer than anywhere else.

“You’ll ruin your dress like that y’ know,” he said sliding down next to me. I didn’t answer what wasn’t a question, instead turning around to face him. HE could’ve looked worse but I guess that was to be expected.

“You don’t look like shit Bird Boy,” THat probably wasn’t the right thing to say, judging by the way his mouth turned sour. I thought through the sentence, each time running through what I sad. Bird Boy. You were the best at nicknames even they were cruel. But all comedy comes from pain and cruelty-- the little voice that sounded suspiciously like you said. We don’t need cruelty I whispered back to it. This might not be the time.

“Why did she call me that?” he asked lost in a memory. I didn’t ask what he was thinking about. I really didn’t want to know.

“Remember photographer class?” I asked not waiting for his nod. I remembered it too. You were the one who said I should take it, something about getting a new perspective. W=I could lie and say that most of the pictures I took weren’t of you. Maybe one day I could convince myself that. Not today.

“You only took pictures of birds. She liked them,” it may have been true. We never really talked about Quinn’s birds but I saw on, at least a copy of one sitting in your locker. I didn’t like them. They all seemed cerebral like just only enough t get to job done. Similar to the pale reflections in hospital windows, something we both shred a hatred in. I didn't tell him that, seeing to misty tear finally roll down his face.

“I… I really miss her. I know it’s only been a week but it’s..”

“It’s like she’s been gone for years,” It was true. A week was too long, too long to go without seeing you. Too cold without you sharing your sweaters and to wet without to umbrella I always forgot to carry. We sat in silence, only to slight sounds on=f rain beating down on our heads.   
Looking up at the sky, blinking away rain (or tears but I didn’t know) the grays and blue almost seemed to call out, telling me that this is life and I should get over it. The clouds were right.

“Won’t your sister be looking for you?” I asked hearing him bristled and shiver. Still didn’t like the cold.

“Maybe, though I couldn't really care at his point,” I didn’t care either but the clouds told me that this wasn’t the time for this. THis whatever it is. Maybe later but not likely. I liked the clouds' words but they weren’t you. I peered over at Quinn fining him staring at his wrist, where a little R marred his skin with black ink. I didn’t comment on it. I knew I couldn’t because I could feel the RM burning its way into my back, the red letter imprinted into my flesh with cold empty pain. Did they see the little LL on the back of your neck? I hope they didn’t. Hope isn’t the right words. They couldn’t have, it was something we’d never told anyone about it. It was something just for me. In the back of my head, I felt foolish when you were kissing him he had to’ve seen it. \  
What did Quinn think of it? Did he see it with that little bit of digue=st whenever one of his friends mentioned someone unseemly? Or even worse (or better) did he feel the letters under his fingers and wonder what it went. Maybe I could convince myself id didn't know what it met and I should stop thinking of a dead girl kisses the boy next to me. 

“What about you, ain’t your mom going to wonder,?” Good question, no answer. I had no real reason to think she wouldn’t be worried but I knew her.

“I don’t know but I think we’ve got a while,”

“A while for what. We’re lying in the mud in our Sunday best and trying not to cry over the most important person in our lives.” His voice slowly rose in pitch the sleeves on his jacket rising. Faded bruises form events I’d never question revealed themselves and I got a sick urge to ask him. Maybe it was because you couldn’t anymore and now it’s my job.

“Did your sister do that?’ I asked watching his eyes widening before looking up with a sad smile.

“It’s both of our faults really. I got mad and so did she. Things happen,” He answered like that was all that mattered, not like those bruises weren’t the things that caused impro to calls at three A.M. where you both thought that I couldn't hear, I always did. You sounded so worried, the concern dripping like oil as you fiddled with your hair. I never saw it but I know that you did it.   
And that was the end of as the silence took over again. The cold seeped into my bones gain and my heart finally tried to jump out of my body, asking me to get the hell up. So I did, not looking at his wide-eyed expression. I needed to go somewhere. But I didn’t know where. 

“I’m going to go,... I don’t know, piss off her mother,”

“You go do that then, I’ll be here.” I looked back at him, trying to smile with ay warmth I had left in my body

“Don’t die Okay,”

I clutched my arms close to my chest peering around dark branches full of leaves and teeming with life. It would have been funny if it wasn't so damn cold. It wasn’t the nice type of cold anymore, the type where it feels like we could lie next to someone and not get all sweaty and disgusting. Not this though. This was the cold after you read a book where the dog does or after a break up over text. It wasn't the type of cold that made you feel like you were floating, the good kind of floating. It was the cold after you read a book where the dog does or when you get broken up with over text. It was the type of cold you couldn't cover up with sweaters. I heard talking and saw sellouts of people, mourners. I didn’t know if they were our Mounier's or someone else.   
It was comforting in a way it should not have, knowing that other people had that cold seeping into their heads too. But I saw a shade of red that reminded me too much of you. It made me freeze before I recognized it as your mother. Our eyes met, eyes much different than yours. I’m glad you had your father’s eyes. I don't mind your dad except for the obvious elements. But he was kind to me. 

“There you are Laura,” A soft and deep voice came from my right as my dad approached me. RIght, that’s what I came here for. I mumbled out a thankless apology as he reached out taking my hand.

“How are you holding up kiddo?” Stupid question. I just lost you, holding up isn’t exactly the right word for what was happening.

“I’m… surviving,” The words probably weren’t the best (again) judging by the pity in his eyes. I really don’t like it, even as I turned away, it wafted off him in waves. Pity was one of my least favorite gifts that someone could give only topped by and a slap to the face and a knife in the back. (it was rather close to your list, though you put chainsaws higher than I had ever considered). I looked around for Mom, not seeing her anywhere but finally spying Quinn's sister. She was good at makeup but even I could see the black eye from here. Maybe I didn’t, a trick of the light or some shit like that. The Mills family bruised too easily. I looked away before she could see me.

“Do you know where Mom is?” I asked softly, pulling my hand out of his grasp. He seemed to break out of whatever he was thinking. 

“Yeah she’s waiting by the car,” he said, putting some distance between us. The moment was over. We became what we have been for three years. Just two people looking at each other with only memories to guide them. He looked different. A few more gray hairs and scruff. I wondered if we were growing it out on purpose as he seemed to run his hand through what little hair he had. Middle age suited him. 

We weaved our way through the expensive black clothing likely to never be worn again. The rain splashed on us whenever the canopy of umbrellas moved. My shoes sunk into the mud when we paused, my socks weighing down my feet. I can’t feel my toes.   
Soon enough we came upon rows of cars and I could see Mom with shaky hands and drifty eyes. Dad would be driving. She nodded at me but didn’t see me. You were really good to her, much of a daughter as I was. Not in the same way but she would miss you. As I sipped into the back seat finding it only slightly warmer than the outside I sighed. I hate funerals. I don't know if you’re supposed to find a sense of acceptance with them but all they seemed to be any good for is crying. I didn’t cry.


	2. Ice cream. One year earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again this is an original work with all the characters owned by me and this is a happier chapter that is set a year before the last one

The warmth of my sheets and soft music playing in my ears felt like heaven. I mean who wouldn’t want to spend a lazy Sunday in bed, sketching up your best friend’s face (I have no ideas and redheads are fun to draw okay). Mom and dad are out somewhere and I really don’t care about what there’re doing because today is my day. The song switched to more of a pop-punk upbeat sort of thing and I can’t help but mouth the words. It’s nice. I mean knowing life this peace and calm in probably going to get destroyed later but for right now, it’s beautiful. 

A smile finds it’s way onto my lips as I finish the rough sketch of Robin Marie. Sunflowers surrounded her and I had twisted some into her hair. It’d look better with color I mused, not wanting to get up to find my markers. I mean would you want to leave a cocoon of softness and warmth. If Robin Marie were here she’d call me a lazy taco. A small laugh found its way up my throat as I turned the music up louder. Y’know that feeling when your so stuck in your own head that all the colors in the world look a bit more vibrant and just dream-like. Well, I think this is what it feels like. Or I could just be high from the weed garden our upstairs neighbor has, but I prefer to believe that I’m not high, I’m just happy. 

I turned back to my sketchbook, picking up where I left off on my drawing. It was a full-body shot and since I’m not really good at legs I decided screw it there’re gonna be covered with sunflowers. I mean if the flowers are there why not use them. I started with drawing the rough shape of the flowers, the scratching of my pencil not breaking through the music’s heavy bass. When I had sufficiently covered almost the entire bottom half of the page with scribbles, I began blocking in the shapes. First stylized blocks came into view before I switched over to a mechanical pencil for the detailing. Little dots of color became the seeds while smudged gray brought forth shadows on the flower’s delicate petals. The song changed again. This time to something that reminded me of the Medieval festival Robin Marie always dragged me to, with fiddles and guitars dancing around the room, like drunkards on the corner. 

It’s finally coming together. All the petals gave the drawing a sort of softness to that drawing though it was betrayed by the sad smile on her lips. I don’t know why I drew her sad but It wasn’t the kind of sad that makes your bones ache, it’s the kind of sad when you have to say goodbye to something you’ve just met, like a one-day beach vacation where you met someone you’ll never see again. Or I’m just being crazy and not very good at drawing smiles. I set down the sketchbook and snuggled deeper into my blanket burrito. It was right. My eyes closed and my mind began to go blank.  
“Open the damn window Lai-lai!” The muffled voice threw me back into the real world as I looked over at my window to see red curls pushed up against it.  
“I’m coming don’t you worry!” I shouted back at her, trying to unwrap myself from the cocoon of warmth. The calm wind blew against my feet as I stepped off my bed onto the stained carpet floor. I still remember when Robin Marie spilled Koolaid on it after a failed attempt to die my hair.   
The window was rusty and probably not the best way for her to get in, but who was I to judge. I walked over to the window, meeting her smiling face as I braced to open it. It being old wasn’t very good for my twig arms, so I had to really work to get it open enough for her to climb through. Her hair bustled in my face, like snakes that were set on fire. She smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg which could only mean one thing.

“You brought snacks,” I took a step back, letting her move into the small room. 

“No shit Sherlock, of course, I brought snacks. Did you really think I’d let you go hungry?” Her reply came with an air of teasing, the smile still resting on her lips.

“Not for a minute,” And now there’s a bag of something that distinctly smelled like cookies thrust at my face. Oh and now it’s hitting me.   
Laughter spurted out of Robin Marie like a waterfall, filling up the room with sound the color of the rainbow. I picked up the bag from the floor, its contents still laying inside. Robin Marie walked closer to me, her icy eyes boring into mine. It felt like she could see every part of me, no matter if I looked away or not. Opening the paper bag, my nose was hit instantly with the smell of fire. I should explain. It wasn’t the kind of fire that scared you, it was the kind of fire in a fireplace, warm and happy. I looked back up at her to see an anxious expression on her face. 

“It smells amazing,” I know she’s always been worried if I would like it or not, but as soon as those (very true words) spun out of my mouth her face relaxed and teeth let go of her bottom lip. I don’t know why she was always nervous about the food she makes, I don’t think there is a way she could screw it up. 

“Um… they’re Chai and cinnamon cookies with pecans roasted on top,” she set down on my bed, patting the seat next to her. After taking one of the cookies out, I throw it back at her, it hit her square in the chest.   
I sat down next to her, our knees barely brushing. The cookie’s pretty I concluded, watching the golden brown edges crumble around the soft hold of my fingers.

“Are you gonna eat it or just stare at it? Cause I ain’t about to be waiting around all day for you to eat a damn cookie,” So I pooped it into my mouth. Heaven. The Chai broke through warming my mouth as the cookie melted onto my tongue. I felt that if I opened my mouth, smoke would come out, like a dragon or a pipe. I flashed a thumbs-up, watching her smile grow across her face. She set back onto my bed, her back stretching as the grey jacket she always wore got bunched up. I pulled it back down, lying next to her in peace, still chewing the fire cookie.

“So, good?” She asked looking up at my ceiling.

“Pretty damn good,” I smiled at her, knowing that she couldn’t see me. I didn’t really care. Because at this moment she was like something out of an art piece, like those pensive women we saw when we went to the Art Institute of Chicago. My hands itched for my sketchbook wanting to capture the way her hair draped over my bedsheets and barely touched my wrist.   
Her humming slowly dragged me out of my confusing thoughts. Her eyes were stilled trained on my ceiling but an aimless tune coursed through the room

“See anything exciting up there?” I asked sarcasm lacing my voice. She laughed a soft and sweet sound that made me want to laugh too.

“No, it’s just that my parents don’t even notice that I’m gone,” oh. I wanted to lie and say that they did but I knew as soon as she looked at me I wouldn’t be able the withhold the truth

“Yeah, but so what THey’re assholes anyway,” I answered looking up at the ceiling with her. Not the right thing to say I assumed based on the way her shaky breath came out.

“I know they are but… just for once I’d like to see them even just pretend,” I looked over to find her staring at me, eyebrows furrowed and tears barely hanging on her lashes. Oh shit. I gave her another once over and decided to ignore the feeling in my chest and just comfort her   
Trying to keep that panic out of my eyes I reached up and curled my hand around her face before pulling close into a tight hug.

“It’s okay darling. I don’t claim to know anything about what your parents are like-” A fucking lie and we both knew it, but as she said, sometimes we need to pretend “- but I do know this. Family ain’t bound by blood, it never was. Family is who you choose to let into your heart,”

“Where exactly did you steal that one from?” She asked as I could feel her smirk against my shirt.

“ First of all how dare you imply that I don’t write my own material and second of all a Therapist's office,” a smile rose despite me being the only one who could see it. We just sat there for god knows how long, just breathing and thinking. Sometimes I wish I could hear what Robin Marie thinks, just so I could scare her. Answering questions that haven’t been asked and the like. But then maybe she’d be able to hear what I think. I don’t if that would be bad or anything. We already know so much about each other. 

But the more I think about it I believe Robin Marie already has that power. Just a smile and a tilt of the head to say, ‘come on tell me the truth” and there I was telling her about the time I kissed Rachel Seve on a dare. APosultuy fucking insane. But all she did was laugh and ask if Rachel was a good kisser. She really wasn’t. It was too wet like kissing two slugs with a hairy caterpillar on top. 

But I digress. WE might have lied there for days or a minute but slowly I could feel the shaky breaths evening out and her hand winding itself into mine. She said something into my chest, words muffled and undishtinable

“What?” AN open question as her muffled breath turned out of time with mine. 

“I said do you want to get ice cream?” She lifted her head, smiling before jumping off the bed and not even waiting for an answer.

“I guess I’ll see you outside,”

“You better!” She yelled before letting go of me and running to the window.   
She spared a look back, with a smile that reached her eyes before climbing out the already open window. I really don’t get why she couldn’t just leave through the window, something dramatic as a reason if I ever asked her. Yeah but I’m still going to use the door. Ice cream is definitely an idea, the heat finally catching up with me after sitting under the blanket for far too long. 

Reaching for the door, I shoved a few bills into my pockets. I knew she would insist on paying, something about owing me for something. She really didn’t owe me anything but she was absolutely the most stubborn person I had ever met. I opened to door to see her tieing her hair up in a ponytail. Strong arms but slender fingers wrapped through the red locks, the elastic getting lost in them. Her eyes were closed, eyebrows focused on the job at hand. Something felt wrong with just watching her without her knowing. I shouldn't have.

“You ready to go?” I asked watching grey eyes open to look at me. She nodded her head before walking over to me. I met her in the middle as she finished tying up her hair. The freckles on her neck showed but more and more as the years went up, little sunspots hanging like ink on her skin.

“We should get tattoos,” HEr words were impulsive like a secret as we walked. Tattoos. Permanent sunspots.

“Why?” Another open-ended question, deserving of what every answer she wanted to give. I’d never really given any thought to the ink on the skin but she must have a good reason for it. 

“Like I’d get a LL for you and you could get an RM for me. it could be in each other's handwriting or some sappy shit like that,” SHe rambled on putting her arm around my shoulder as we walked. I should remind her that we’re both sixteen and that her parents would never let her get one. But I didn’t instead enjoy the smile on her face. Looking at the grey going to silver felt nice, like waking up to good news or the smell of eggs and bacon. BUt silver should be cold. Not her silver. It looked like it would melt out of her eyes and spill onto the road at any second. I wouldn’t let that happen though. Too much of a chance of the silver making flowers sprout out from the ground

“But only if you’re okay with it right. I know this guy who’ll do it for like 5 bucks,”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this haven’t you,” I offered a soft smile seeing the almost sheepish way she looked down at me. She nodded the smile on her face not going away, her maybe even clutching my shoulder tighter, like if she’d let go I’d run. I wanted to tell her that I wouldn’t run, I never would. 

Did I want tattoos? Again the amount of thought I had put into that was about as much thought she had put into the many properties of gold (not much). Getting one wouldn’t be the strangest thing we would ever do, that I'm sure of. But it was permanent. I mean what if something happened and we weren’t friends anymore.

“That’s not going to happen,” Talking out loud again. Oh. The smile she wore twisted looking at me with so much conviction I had a hard time meeting her eyes. 

“I know Robin Marie,” I reassured her, not liking the expression on her face. Sadness didn’t suit her, at all. She stopped for a second pulling me into her chest. THat’s nice, my hands creeping around her back. I knew what we looked like, two girls hugging on the sidewalk. I probably should have cared but she’s a really nice hugger. She mumbled a good against my head her eyes probably closed.   
We stood like that just hugging like two idiots with no idea what to do at 1 p.m. in the afternoon. I think I Was the one to pull back, reminding her of why we were here in the first place. Ice cream. 

The general store stood like a tower in front of us. The air-conditioning was a nice welcome to the slightly molded smell and probably overpriced food.

“What flavor do you want?” She asked, us both standing in front of there small section pints of icecream. Strawberry, Mint, Chocolate, vanilla, and pecan. Knowing what she was getting I reached in and felt the wrap around my face. Pulling out a pint of MInt and a pint of strawberry I closed the door.

“I’m paying you know,” She said as we looked around for other things that we shouldn’t be eating. Rows of brightly colored packages against the grey floors took up all that I could see. So I shoved a bar of chocolate into my pocket and she took a small bag of beef jerky giving me a sly smile.

“I know you are. I’ve given up trying to stop you,” She laughed breaching over the music playing. SOngs from 5 years ago, scratchy and only able to hear if you tried to. The cashier gave us no attention, not even asking how our day went. I didn’t blame him and it was better if he didn’t notice anything. Walking out of the store she clasped our hands together, readjusting the bag on her shoulder. I almost wrenched my hand out of her’s but I didn't. It wasn't the first time she’d done this and if she didn’t see anything wrong with it I didn’t know why I would.   
Finding someplace to sit to eat what we had got was easy. The skate park was not really used by anyone, but it had good shade. 

“Beef jerky, really?” I asked, watching her eat it with her ice cream. Blasphemy. But the glare she sent held no fire. I was teasing, used to the strange thing she enjoyed. I tried it once but the salt and the sweet just made me confused. SHe spouted something about not thinking of them as different flavors. I called her an idiot.

“You're one to talk Ms. I don’t eat anything but fucking sugar and tea,” SHe was teasing but it gave me pause. Looking up at her she didn’t notice. Most of the time I didn’t mind her roughness. It felt t=better than when people treated me like glass.

“Fuck off,” I said flicking her wrist. She laughed scooting closer to me and almost leaning against me. Something in my stomach twisted, akin to the feeling of waiting for the drop of a roller coaster. Nothing was going to happen. I knew that but it gave me pause.

“You good Lai-Lai,” I nodded, not wanting her to move (should I have wanted her too?). I was alright, I was eating Ice cream with my best friend in a skate park on Sunday at 1 p.m. I’d say I’m more than fine. I leaned into her, shoving more strawberry ice cream into my move. It was almost too sweet but maybe that’s why I liked it to begin with. It felt like you couldn’t eat too much at one time. Robin Marie called me crazy. I’m not crazy.

“You want some chocolate?” I asked her, holding up the bar in front of her. She took it, breaking off a piece slightly. I wanted to know what she was thinking about but I was too comfortable to ask. So I colored my eyes and made sure to tune my breathing to hers. It was nice. Like a scene out of a movie, the calm before the storm. But we didn’t have a storm on the horizon It was just us eating ice cream.  
=


End file.
